


Blood and Prejudice

by GardenLily



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22366036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GardenLily/pseuds/GardenLily
Summary: Hermione is trying to get through all her classes, but is worried about her future in the Wizarding World. But one day she finds confidence in an unlikely party.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, dramione
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	1. The Study of Thorns

**Author's Note:**

> Rating and tags may change as the story progresses

Hermione rocked back and forth on her feet as she waited in line. There were only two people in front of her now, but neither of them seemed to be in a hurry.

On Thursday's Class, when Professor Binns had offered an opportunity for extra credit, she had, of course, jumped at the chance. She was to write a ten-page paper on magic in another part of the world. Hermione had chosen Asia due to the class’s egregious lack of focus on the continent. She had decided to study Taoist magic in China.

Earlier that morning, she had passed Madam Pince in the hall and had asked her, not for the first time, about the availability of one of the library's more noteworthy tomes on the subject. This morning, however, instead of giving a sigh and an apathetic “nothing yet,” Madam Pince had informed her the book had finally been returned. Of course, Hermione had classes to attend But she resolved that the moment lunch came around, she would check out the book and begin her research. 

Now only Justin Finch-Fletchley was in front of her. She was almost jittery with the excitement of learning about the foreign styles of witchcraft.

“This book is to be returned by the 18th of October. Please do remember Mr. Finch-Fletchley, that if you do not, for any reason, return the book by this date, it will have been the third time now, and you will until otherwise decided, be unable to check out another book.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Justin replied with a bit of an edge in his voice.

As she handed him the book, she continued with mild disdain, “I almost hope you forget again. That way, I will no longer have to suffer your poor attitude.”

Justin grabbed the book from her hand, and stomped out, grumbling to himself.

Hermione stepped up to the desk, “I’m here for A Brief History Of Taoism and Fulu. I believe it was returned this morning?”

Madam Pince set the book on the counter with a dull thud, “Indeed.”

After it had been checked out, she took the book and began heading toward a table. It was then she heard muffled laughter from behind.

“Maybe she’s hoping to move to China,” whispered a high-pitched nasally voice.

Hermione turned to See Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, and Milicent Bulstrode standing at the corner of a bookshelf, looking right at her. Theodore seemed unimpressed at the comment, but Milicent had quite taken to it. She had to cover her mouth from laughing.

“Is that meant to be an insult, Pansy? I think you’re losing your touch.”

Pansy scoffed, “Oh, no! Actually, I hope it works out for you, I really do. That way, we never have to see your ugly face around school anymore. Honestly, sometimes it’s hard to eat knowing that if I look up, I might see  _ that, _ ” she motioned to all of Hermione.

Hermione furrowed her brow, a small lump having now formed in her throat, “Well, that’s funny. I was just thinking about how you affect everyone too. Y’know, how whenever you enter a room, the average IQ drops to 20?”

“The thing is Granger; I already know what I’m going to do with my life. My father has had a job for me at the ministry lined up for ages now. And I’m going to marry rich. So I don’t have to worry about making up for my dirty blood and lack of reputable magical background by doing all this extra work as you do. I can spend that time having a social life and doing what I want. You could do all this nonsense, and they’re still wouldn’t be a job for you.”

The lump in her throat now felt double in size as she managed, “Whatever Pansy” and strode around to the opposite end of the library.

Hermione sat in silence for a minute, listening for anyone. What Pansy had said was her exact fear. Of course, all of this work was in the hopes that someday she could work at the top of her field within the wizarding world. She wanted to be in politics, fight for equal rights for all creatures, and help everyone and everything she could. But she had so much fear that no one would hire her due to discrimination about her blood status. So many of the Slytherins were hateful to her, and most of their parents were highly-respected members of the ministry.

When she felt safe, she put her head down on her arms and began to cry. Eventually, she stopped but stayed sitting like that and thinking for several more minutes.


	2. Can A Dragon Change It's Scales?

Hermione woke up the next morning, dark thoughts still ringing in her head. She shouldn’t have let what Pansy said to get to her, but how could she not? This was the reality of the world they lived in. 

It was only 6 in the morning, and the other girls were all still asleep. Lavender was snoring loudly in her mess of a bed on the opposite end of the room. Luckily Hermione had decided to take one of the two beds closest to the door this year. Last year she, Parvati, and Lavender had almost woken up Fay Dunbar (who had slept next to the door) several times when they had tried to sneak out for DA meetings.

Crookshanks followed her to the toilet as she got ready for the day. Big yellow eyes stared at her as she brushed her teeth, thinking about her studies. In particular, she considered Professor Slughorn’s potions class, and how she was only receiving Exceeds Expectations on most of her assignments while Harry was all of a sudden a star pupil and getting all Outstandings. Of all her classes, Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts had been proving to be the toughest this year. Although the main reason DADA was a problem was due to Professor Snape having it out for Harry and all the rest of the Gryffindors. Professor Slughorn, on the other hand, loved Harry, and as far as she knew, had no reason to hate her. Why did it seem like Harry already knew the answer to everything? Was her textbook giving her incorrect information as Harry had suggested?

Maybe Slughorn was one of the many pureblood wizards who disliked muggle-borns. She pushed the thought away. Dumbledore had called him in as a replacement teacher for the year once Snape had moved on to DADA, and if Dumbledore liked him he couldn’t be all bad, right?

Hermione returned to the bedroom and began to dress for the day. Ava Jamieson was now awake and propped up on her bed reading something. It wasn’t long before Parvati, Lavender, and Fae were also up and getting ready for class.

Parvati looked up from slipping on her shoes and sleepily asked, “Hermione, have you begun the Charms essay yet?”

“Yeah sure, I finished mine on Sunday. I wrote about Avis the bird-conjuring charm”

“Oh good! Can I have a look? I’m writing about Aparecium, but I can’t decide on how to form everything”

“Of course, here you are,” Hermione replied, handing over the parchment, which had already been loosely tied.

“I thought that was due this Thursday?” Lavender questioned hopefully.

“Yeah I just wanted to be done with it” Hermione replied, pilling some books into her bag. Lavender sighed with relief before strolling out the loo herself.

After finishing up some work for Arithmancy and Transfiguration, Hermione noticed it was nearing 8 o’clock, so she headed to the common room. There, she saw Harry and Neville standing next to the hearth and chatting about something while Ron slumped on a couch looking still half-asleep. There was a large group by the bulletin board sitting around Dean and Seamus as they played some enchanted version of wizard’s chess. The crowd included Ginny, The Creevy brothers, Romilda Vane, Cormac McLaggen, and a few younger students she didn’t know the names of.

“What’s going on over here?” Hermione asked casually as she joined Harry and Neville.

“Neville was helping me with terms for the Herbology test today. I assume you’re more than prepared Hermione?” Harry responded cheerfully.

“Quite. If you’re all done, why don’t we all grab some breakfast before class?”

Neville and Harry agreed and began towards the door. Hermione turned to Ron, and kicked his leg lightly with her foot, “Ron, we’re going-”

Before she finished Ron stood - wobbling somewhat - and garbled, “Come on, then”

She followed the boys out the door, and they all made their way to the Great Hall.

The Hall was bustling already with students wandering about, loud discussions at all the tables, and food or drink appearing on plates or in cups as they emptied. Hermione and the rest took their seats at the Gryffindor table and began to fill their plates with eggs, sausages, baked beans, and the like.

Ron had somehow gotten ahold of several chicken legs, and was into his second one when Harry asked, “So Hermione, Neville, what are prefect duties like so far this year? Your duties must be tougher now that everyone knows Voldemort is back”

Hermione agreed pensively, “We’re going to have to start doubling up for night patrols soon. They don’t trust that one student alone would be safe because… you know”

Harry nodded.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Herbology passed quickly, with the test only taking up about 20 minutes of Hermione's time. She and Neville were, unsurprisingly, the first two to finish. They wandered out to a part of the external gardens next to Greenhouse 3, where they could still see everyone else inside.

Neville smiled at her, “I’m glad I’ve spent this extra time studying with Professor Sprout recently, otherwise I might have mistaken Cerebrum Aborior for Serpentice Album. They look so similar”

Hermione nodded in avid agreement adding, “Neville, would you mind telling Harry and Ron I’ve gone down to see Professor Slughorn? I want to meet with him before class begins”

Neville assured her he would, so she began back toward the castle.

Her heart was racing a bit as she walked, going over what she planned to say in her head,  _ Professor, sorry to bother you, but I have some questions about our assignment from yesterday. I think my textbook may be giving me the wrong information and- _

As she turned the corner to the Potions room, she saw none other than Draco Malfoy standing outside the closed door. Her stomach turned a bit with the anticipation of some form of taunting, but she collected herself and continued over to knock firmly on the door.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow as she did this, and drawled apathetically, “He’s not here yet Granger.”

Hermione huffed and asked, “When he will be?”

“How should I know? Probably before class starts”

Hermione’s shoulders dropped, but she decided to wait. She stood next to the door opposite Malfoy and began to tap her foot impatiently, looking anywhere but directly at him.

She saw Malfoy squint at her out of the corner of her eye before starting, “You’re not having trouble in this class are you?”

“No” she responded transparently, then looked at him, “Well why are you here anyway? Isn’t potions your best class?”

He laughed bitterly, “It was until Slughorn began favoring your boy over everyone else”

“Well Snape did the exact opposite for years, so it’s about time someone graded based on work and not house,” she said quickly, knowing she needed to defend her friend despite having the same thoughts herself.

“Are you serious? Most teachers in this school are already biased toward Gryffindor. Or at least against Slytherin. McGonagal, Hagrid, Flitwick, Sprout, Binns… the only teacher who favors Slytherin is Snape. Honestly, it’s a wonder so many of us pass”

Hermione was taken aback at this sudden burst of supposedly heartfelt frustration. She fell silent, not knowing what to say. Luckily, it was only a moment later that Professor Slughorn turned into the hallway, arms full of books, and apparently preoccupied with finding the right keys. He looked up at the two of them.

“Ah! Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger, two of my best students, what can I do for you?”

Hermione started, “Professor-”

“I need to discuss a few of the recent assignments with you professor” Malfoy interrupted

Slughorn mumbled something to himself and motioned for them to follow him inside once he unlocked the door.

“Ms. Granger, if you would wait but a moment I will answer your questions next,” Slughorn said absentmindedly as he set down his books and began talking with Malfoy.

Hermione decided to set down her bag at her seat while she waited, as it wasn’t too long until class started anyway. As she listened to the conversation she realized, a bit miffed, that she had run into the same issues Malfoy had. though she wasn’t entirely sure why this bothered her. All she needed to do was listen, and she wouldn’t have to ask her own questions. Slughorn recommended that students do some substitutional readings from  _ Herbs for Witchcraft: Proper Practice Volume 3 _ , of which there were a few copies in the library. Something he decided after realizing most students were struggling with the act of making the potions in class, independent of writing the essays.

“In fact, I had almost forgotten to suggest that reading in class this morning. Thank you for reminding me, my boy”

A few other students had entered the room when Slughorn turned to Hermione, “What was it that you needed me to answer dear?”

Hermione forced a smile and said, “Actually you’ve answered my questions already, but thank you professor”

He nodded in understanding and turned back to the chalkboard to write down today’s instructions. As he did this, Hermione looked over at Malfoy who was sitting quietly in his seat looking withdrawn from the mild commotion. He seemed much calmer recently and had even backed off on his usual taunts and insults. She wondered for a moment how this could be the same boy who called her mudblood and cursed her teeth with the Densaugeo spell. Although admittedly the curse had been meant for Harry.

Right then Harry and Ron entered the classroom. They were still chatting about the Herbology test as they took their seats next to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to upload this now, because it was done, and the anticipation was killing me. Hope everyone enjoys!
> 
> P.S.: Yes in this version Neville is the other prefect, because it doesn't make sense that Dumbledore gave the position to Ron. He was the worst performing student out of the Gryffindor boys in their year. I still love him though!


	3. Let Labor Preserve Us From Evil

Their last class, Charms, had gone on as normal. Hermione and Parvati both got Outstandings on their essays, as usual. Harry had gotten Exceeds Expectations (with her help she might add) and Ron had just scrounged an Acceptable. She glanced subtly over to the Slytherins, where she noticed Malfoy had also gotten an Outstanding. She grimaced a bit, remembering how he had almost surpassed her in Charms last year.

That night there was another Prefect Meeting held by Allen Kuhn and Raya Lowe, that year's head boy and girl. Hermione and Neville arrived a bit early, as did most everyone else. Allen was pacing casually at the front of the empty classroom they were using, waiting for Raya to sort her papers.

Raya nodded at Allen, and he turned to the rest of them, “Hello everyone, I hope your first week returning to classes has been favorable?”

After a few murmurs of agreement and some nods, he cleared his throat and continued, “We’ve been discussing the obvious security concerns with the professors as well as Dumbledore in light of last year’s events. And we have decided upon a few options for implementing a higher level of security for our residents. However, we understand that there is only so much we, as students, can do. So as a precaution for the moment, we will be continuing with scheduled night patrols. But we will have everyone double up as in Third Year.”

Along with a few groans and eye rolls from her peers, Hermione screwed up her face skeptically and chimed in “But Allen, doubled patrols didn’t work back then. Sirius Black got in anyway, and even made it into the Gryffindor common room and out of the castle again without anyone noticing”.

Neville shrunk a bit next to her, likely remembering that he was the reason Sirius had gotten the password.

Allen nodded at her, but it was Raya who responded, “Yes, this is just an added precaution. More measures are being taken by the professors, which we are not at liberty to discuss right now,” she said this with a pointed look at the other seventh years, “We have also informed all the ghosts and paintings of our concerns, and they will certainly prove to be invaluable as extra sets of eyes and ears for us throughout the year.”

Hermione conceded, though was not entirely convinced.

Allen continued, “Prefects will make up four sets of patrols every night. Since there are eight prefects per year, we will have each night be all made up of students from the same year. We’ve put a schedule together for the next two weeks, so please come up and look to see what day you have been assigned, and with whom. And I should say, if anyone would like to be scheduled for a particular time moving forward, please speak to either Raya or myself”.

Raya set out the schedule on the table expectantly, as several students, including Hermione, pushed to the front to see. The sixth years were to start patrolling tomorrow, and she was to be paired with Anthony Goldstein from Ravenclaw, Neville with Hannah Abbot, and she noticed that poor Padma would have to patrol with Malfoy. Despite his mild lack of vitriol recently, she worried he’d still prove to be a pompous bully.

Looking over her shoulder she said, “Neville, you’ll be with Hannah.”

“Oh okay!” Neville lit up a bit at that, then asked who she was with.

“Anthony Goldstein,” she shrugged, as she knew him from DA meetings and that one time he helped turn Malfoy Crabbe and Goyle into giant slugs. But she had never really had a conversation with the boy.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day passed as quickly as the last, and then they were all gathered again to begin patrols. Hermione spotted Ernie Macmillan talking angrily with Pansy Parkinson, who she assumed was his partner that night. Ernie was a kind and intelligent person, she remembered. He was one of the few to believe Harry last year, and he was far and away the best performing Hufflepuff. She thought he and Pansy might tolerate each other as fellow purebloods, though it seemed she had been wrong, as their argument followed them upstairs. Hermione waved to Neville, who was also conversing with his partner, Hannah Abbot, though with much less severity. Then she and Anthony headed to the third floor.

It was a dull night, where nothing at all happened besides an occasional discussion about classes, their time spent in Dumbledore’s Army. Once, Anthony had asked Hermione to explain the events she’d experienced in the Ministry last year. He, of course, lamented not being there to help and added with a slight grimace, “I’m glad you all made it out alright though.”

Finally, Hermione returned to her Dormitory, thankful that she’d already finished her History of Magic essay, and that class wasn’t until 10:00. After she’d changed into her bedclothes, and laid down, it was less than a minute before she fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! This was a hard chapter to write, because not much regarding Dramione happens, but it felt necessary for the plot. I will be adding the fourth chapter in a few days, so I hope that makes up for my lateness. (/*n*\\)
> 
> I will also be posting a oneshot in celebration of Valentines Day, so look out for that! I hope you all like this chapter, and have a great rest of your day.


	4. Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid

“Harry, why are you reading that?”

“What?”

Hermione sighed exasperatedly, “You know what, our potions textbook. You told me you’d finished with our last assignment on Friday”

“I’m just trying to get ahead, that's all”

Hermione raised an eyebrow unconvinced but turned away from the sofa where Harry sat. She decided instead, to go over and read the patrol schedule on the bulletin board again. She was on edge today more than usual. It was Sunday and over a week since night patrols started. Of course, nothing had changed besides having to account for several fewer hours of availability in her schedule. Today, however, she would have to patrol with Draco Malfoy. She dreaded the thought of having to deal with his snobbish, condescending, melancholy for the majority of the night. She had been planning on asking Neville to switch with her, but as it turned out, he had been paired with Pansy. And despite Malfoy’s unpleasant demeanor, Pansy would inevitably be worse to her.

Hermione sighed and leaned her head against the wall, waiting for Neville to join her from the boy’s dormitories. As she stood there, she waved at Ginny and Dean, who were just returning. They’d begun dating this year, which surprised Hermione, as she knew Ginny had set her sights on Harry years ago. Hermione noticed smugly that Harry grimaced a bit when he noticed the two of them together. But once they started snogging on a plush bench in the corner he turned away.

It wasn’t long before she saw Neville’s feet at the top of the stairway. He looked about as unhappy as she felt; anxious, and dragging his feet on every step. The two of them then began the trek to their temporary purgatory.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

When they arrived, Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were talking about something. Though Parkinson seemed to be doing most of the talking, Malfoy listening with mild interest.

When they caught sight of Hermione and Neville, they both visibly cringed.

Neville turned to Hermione with a groan and muttered, “Good luck”. They both took a deep breath and walked over to meet the Slytherins.

Immediately Pansy started in, “I can’t believe they made you two muppets prefects”

Neville rolled his eyes, and ignored the comment, “Come on”

Pansy scoffed but immediately started down the stairs ahead of Neville, keeping her nose as high as possible all the way.

“We should start with the sixth floor” Hermione stated quickly and paced over to the stairwell, half-aware of Malfoy dragging along behind her, hands in his pockets, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.  _ Well at least we agree on something, _ she thought crossly.

It was probably a half-hour before either of them said a word. The two just meandering through the hallways, checking the empty rooms as they went.

“This is ridiculous,” Malfoy said, “We shouldn’t be forced to take time out of our lives to look around the school. As if the dark lord would be hiding in the Arithmancy classroom. Besides most of us can’t stand each other”

Hermione bit her lip. He had a point, but she knew the professors were probably at a loss, and just trying to do something. With the little information they had, it would be hard to more properly protect students.

“It’s not about that. It’s about covering all our bases since we don’t know anything about their plans. It’s better to be prepared”

He huffed, “Are we? Right, I’m sure when Abbot and Macmillan run into a group of Death Eaters in a broom cupboard they’ll be able to handle it by themselves”

Hermione scowled exasperatedly. Of course, she had considered this. But when putting herself in the shoes of a professor, or someone else trying to prevent any security breaches at the school, having prefects help out on this smaller scale did make sense.

“What would you have us do then? Nothing?”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. Hermione could tell there was something he wanted to say yet she couldn’t figure out what.

Another while passed silently, the tension from their short argument still hanging in the air.

Not knowing what Malfoy was thinking was slowly getting to her. Could it have been important? He was connected to death eaters through his family, and if Harry was right, he might also be one of them. Did he know something no one else did? Probably. She should try to figure out what he knew, right?

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and broke the silence, “I understand your point. If there were death eaters here, there’s no way most students in the school would be able to do anything. And for all we know, they already have someone on the inside posing as a teacher or something”  _ like a student _ , she thought. Hermione looked at Malfoy, hoping to see some sort of reaction.

He just raised an eyebrow impertinently.

Still trying, she continued, “For all we know, in a few weeks half the students will be gone. Likely the youngest ones first, since they’re so less experienced”

“What are you trying to say, Granger?”

Hermione bit her lip again, worried that she may be pushing too much, “I just mean that it’s a tough situation to be in, being threatened by you-now-who and having those you care about being threatened too, but not knowing what to do or how to protect anyone. I guess everyone’s just doing the best they can”

Malfoy grimaced, responding simply, “I guess” and continued down the hall.

_ Well, that wasn’t exactly helpful _ , Hermione dejected. She sped up to him, and took a deep breath, thinking of how to start next.

Malfoy began tiredly before she could, “Will you please stop badgering me? I get it alright? It’s an essential job and all that rubbish. Just, let’s get this over with.”

Hermione smothered her words and nodded.

She spent the rest of the time thinking about what seemed to bother him so much about the conversation. Was he worried like the rest of them? Or was he a death eater now? Maybe he felt guilty about something he’d done- or something he had yet to do.

These were worrying thoughts, and she decided she’d better keep an eye on him when she could. Of course, Harry was watching him too, but Harry tended to be quite paranoid and over-reactive to anything Malfoy did. Not without reason of course, but Hermione felt that she might have a better perspective on whatever was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is!
> 
> Last week I was sick AND had midterms, but the chapter's finally here! I hope everyone enjoys it! Have a great day, and please let me know what you think


	5. Men Build Too Many Walls

That Monday started in Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Snape introducing nonverbal spells. Hermione had been excited to finally and formally learn these. She’d of course known of several before and had even attempted a few, however, she was sure in-class instruction would help apply that knowledge.

Throughout the class, She noticed Harry staring daggers at Malfoy. Every once in a while he would be forced to look away to perform a spell or respond to one of Snape’s questions but would turn right back to Malfoy. Harry watched his every move to the point that even Ron noticed, despite his constant efforts to perform a wordless variation of Lumos.

“He alright?” Ron asked in a whisper, motioning toward Harry.

Hermione sighed, “I think he’s just being paranoid about Malfoy again.”

Ron grimaced worriedly but nodded and returned to his spell.

After class, Hermione confronted Harry to check up on him, hoping he hadn’t already begun planning their annual scheme. Every year things got more dangerous, and she just wished the Ministry could take care of Voldemort and the Death Eaters for a while. Though knowing their track record, that seemed unlikely.

“Harry? Is everything alright?”

Harry shook his head slightly, “I just know he’s up to something. Something’s been off about him all year”.

“Well, for one, we’re not too far into the year yet. And maybe it’s just that he’s out of sorts because of last year, and what happened to his father.”

Harry turned his glare to Hermione, “You were with us at Borgin and Burkes! We know something happened there. He’s definitely up to something. I just don’t know what yet.”

The day continued like this, and Hermione was glad when Transfiguration was over and she could leave Harry and Ron for the library. Quidditch tryouts were next week, and Ron had been practicing with Harry in hopes of becoming Gryffindor keeper. For some reason, they believed they would get all their studying done after practice, despite Hermione’s opposition.

This was fine with her though, finally some peace and quiet. Only books, distant whispers, and the smell of parchment surrounding her.

Upon entering the library, she headed straight for the back near the section on Medical Oddities, where there was a nice medium-sized, and usually empty, oak table.

Turning past one of the shelves, she heard rustling. Out of mild curiosity, she peered through the books, just above eye level, and saw the back of someone’s head on the other side. She immediately knew who it was. No one else had that slick white-blonde hair.

Turning her gaze back in front of her, Hermione stood there biting her lip and contemplating her next decision. She had just come here to study, and if she was lucky, for a bit of light reading. But this might be the only time she had to speak with him before they were on patrol together in about a week. Harry would certainly want her to dig for information, even if there was nothing to be found.

She closed her eyes and sighed, the  _ worst-case scenario I get moved higher up on his ‘mudbloods to kill’ list, best-case scenario, he gives away his plans without realizing it, and I still have enough time to work _ .

She opened her eyes and decided,  _ That’s it then _ , and began around the bookshelf.

But he wasn’t there. Confused, she scanned the surrounding area. Nothing. Half disappointed and half relieved, she continued back to her table. And there sat none other than Draco Malfoy engrossed in a textbook.

Hermione grimaced,  _ this is less than ideal, but I guess I can always just go back to the Gryffindor common room to study _ . She sighed again, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, and walked over to him.

He looked up, a mixture of confusion, suspicion, and mild disgust played across his face.

“What do you want?” it sounded more like an accusation than a question.

With some difficulty, she pushed down her pride and her already rising desire to huff and storm off, beginning, “We’re both having problems in potions, I thought if we, being the top students, worked together, we could surely help each other.”

Malfoy scoffed, his face becoming more outright disgusted.

Her frustration boiling over, she burst out, “You know, you may be apathetic towards everyone, and not care whether this school and everything it stands for will fall, and-” she scoffed, “seemingly would be  _ fine _ if the world ended today, but most people don’t think that way. I, for one,  _ cannot _ think that way. I’m going to try to constantly do my best and prove people like you and Pansy, and whoever else doubts my abilities, wrong.”

Malfoy looked startled but remained silent.

Hermione relaxed her hands that had been balled in fists before continuing more calmly, “I just want to do well. And I assumed you might too. Again, something I thought we could help each other with. Because  _ I  _ try to give people the benefit of the doubt”

Malfoy cleared his throat, clearly a bit unsettled. Hermione herself was surprised at her outburst but glad to have finally said some of the thoughts that had been plaguing her mind to one of the very people who had caused so much of her turmoil.

But as neither of them said a word, she decided hope was lost.

“Alright, we’ll both just fail our newts then,” she said, turning sharply, nails dug into her hands from embarrassment at the entire situation, and walked off.

“Wait” she heard the begrudging voice behind her. Turning again, she saw Malfoy, hand gripping the side of his head, clearly frustrated.

It was Hermione’s turn to raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to say something.

He groaned a bit before continuing painfully, “You’re… right. If I- I can’t fail potions.”

Hermione forced a smile and walked back. She set her bag down across the table from Malfoy and began to take out some books.

“Just really- don’t breathe a word of this to anyone” he muttered.

“Of course not. You’re not the only one with a reputation to protect” she responded with mild snark.

Hermione sat down, already thinking of their potions assignments and how to integrate some more probing questions into the discussion when Malfoy said, “Obviously I don’t want that.”

“What?” she replied, caught off guard.

“All those things you said that could happen to people, and the school. I’m not apathetic. Obviously, I don’t want those things to happen.”

Grimacing slightly in suspicion Hermione said, “Then why do you act the way you do?.”

Immediately he retorted, “That’s none of your business.”

After a couple of seconds of silence, he continued, “We all just have our parts to play. That’s all.”

Hermione wondered what he could mean by that suspiciously ambiguous comment, but felt a touch of guilt too. It seemed he was truly struggling with something. She decided that was quite enough arguing for the day. So from that point on, they just worked on their potions essays. They would quietly exchange books or help when necessary, and in all Hermione was able to complete the section she was working on likely a full hour earlier than she would have otherwise.

Of course the entire time they listened intently to the sound of the library, making sure no one could stumble upon the unlikely partnership.

One time they thought someone was walking around the corner but it turned out to be the portrait of Emeric Switch. He had decided to stroll about in a nearby painting of some potted hydrangeas, square in the center of a lavish living room.

Hermione made him promise not to say anything, and he replied simply, “My dear, I have no one with whom I wish to speak at all, let alone to gossip about the lives of children.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

When Harry and Ron finally returned to the Common room, she helped Harry do a bit of his essay, while Ron, Ginny, and Neville sat on the sofa and chatted about something or other.

It had certainly been stressful but all in all, not a bad day.


	6. To Be A Bird With No Wings

Since the introduction of nonverbal spells, studies had become a lot harder. Almost every class now required students to perform their spells this way, and it was proving to be a lot harder than expected. When passing the common areas or study halls, one would see a room full of very constipated-looking teens, purple in the face, and staring at their papers. All of them trying to force their spells to work. This, combined with the extra studying everyone was doing for their N.E.W.T. exams meant less and less free time.

While difficult, the nonverbal spells also proved to be helpful when it came to studying in the library. Hermione and Malfoy had continued to help each other on and off, which turned out to be invaluable to them both, as even Hermione had recently had some trouble following class instructions.

On Tuesday of that week, Malfoy seemed unusually agitated. He kept glancing between his book and some parcel sitting at the edge of the table.

“You alright?” Hermione asked.

“Of course,” he replied curtly, glowering down at his book again.

Hermione, upon noticing the book was one of their Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks;  _ Incurable Curses, Hexes, and Jinxes _ said, “If it’s the Flagrante Curse you’re struggling with, I can help. We actually learned that last year in… well, Dumbledore’s Army”. She finished hesitantly, remembering as she spoke that Malfoy had been in the Inquisitorial Squad, and had tried to hunt down members of the DA under Umbridge’s leadership.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow as he looked up at her, and laughed. Hermione was taken aback at this switch of emotion, and as this was the first time she’d seen him laugh at something that wasn’t someone’s pain.

“That was so stupid,” he said. Hermione waited for Malfoy to continue, unsure what he meant.

“Just- that whole year,” he sighed, “I joined Umbridge’s narc squad because I thought it would help my chances at working within the ministry, especially after my father’s arrest. Some good it did me,” Malfoy looked back down at his book with renewed anger.

After a moment of silence, he said, “I have to go. I’ve other things to do,” And haphazardly stuffed his papers and books back into his bag, placing the package nicely on top. He then walked off rather briskly.

“Well that was a bit dramatic wasn’t it?” said a voice from behind Hermione, startling her half to death. It was Emerich Switch, lounging again in the living room painting nearby.

Hermione pinched her lips haughtily and returned to her studies.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Later that week, Hermione, Harry, and Ron were all eating breakfast when Harry brought up Hagrid. None of them had taken his class this year, and he was worried Hagrid was angry with them. Between studies, prefect duties, and being forced to listen to Harry’s conspiracies every other day, Hermione had entirely forgotten.

“Oh no! We’ve got to go explain. What if he thinks we hated his class?” Hermione said.

“But we did hate his class,” Ron replied, “I for one am thrilled to be rid of the skrewts. Not to mention, he’d probably still want us to nanny Grawp for him”.

“Either way, we’ll have to go visit him, “ Harry said. “But it won’t be until after tryouts this morning.”

They all seemed satisfied with this, though Hermione was still frowning at Ron’s comment.

Just then, Professor Slughorn walked over to them, “Harry! So glad to run into you. I’m having a little dinner party tonight, and I couldn’t forget to invite The Chosen One himself!” He chuckled and turned to Hermione to give a little bow, “Of course, you are also invited, Miss Granger”.

He nodded to them both and headed off as if Ron wasn’t even there. Ron huffed at this, mumbling something under his breath.

“I can’t go anyway,” said Harry, “Snape’s given me detention”

“You really shouldn’t have spoken to him like that,” Hermione said disapprovingly.

“I dunno, it cracked me up,” Ron chimed in, giving Harry a cheeky grin.

“Shall we go then?” Hermione asked after rolling her eyes. Harry and Ron nodded at this, and they all stood up to head out toward the quidditch pitch.

It was a very long morning, and several hours before they were able to leave the pitch. Harry would give each person five chances to score a point, block the quaffle, etc., before making a decision. Every time he would turn someone away, there would be an argument, he’d have to yell at everyone until they accepted that they’d been rejected, and the pattern would begin all over again.

By the end of it all Katie Bell, Demelza Robins, and Ginny Weasley were the new chasers. Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote took Fred and George’s place as the new beaters, though they were nowhere near as brilliant as the twins had been. And Ron had just beaten Cormac Mclaggen for the position of keeper.

Once they finally made it to Hagrid’s hut, It had turned out that while he was upset about not seeing the trio, he was more out of sorts  because his oldest friend and pet, Aragog, was dying. The three then set to spend their time with him laying on their condolences, as well as adoration for Hagrid’s strength to continue teaching through all of this.  By the time he waved them off, the mood was a great deal more pleasant. The sun was already setting, so the trio raced across the grounds to the great hall, just in time for dinner.

The rest of the night, Ron made a big deal of himself, strutting as though he was eight feet tall, still gloating on behalf of his new position. McLaggen, sill indignant about his loss, glowered every time he passed by.

Once back in the common room, they all sat down around the fireplace. Ron was lounging mindlessly on the sofa as Harry began looking through his potions book yet again, which never failed to annoy Hermione.

“Are you all invited to Professor Slughorn’s dinner too?” asked Ginny, who’d just sat down across from Ron.

Ron gestured glumly to Harry and Hermione responding, “These two are.”

“Oh. Well, I just wanted to say I’m heading down in a few minutes if anyone wants to come with me,” She glanced at Harry briefly before heading off again.

Hermione smirked at Harry as she began reading a copy of the Daily Prophet, which had caught her eye, as it mentioned the Malfoy family.

“It says here, the  _ Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects _ has been to search Malfoy manner based on an anonymous tip. But they haven’t found anything,” Hermione said to Harry, handing him the paper, and feeling unexpectedly relieved at the news.

“That was my tip!” Harry said, and scanned the article frustratedly.

“He could’ve snuck something into school,” He decided finally.

“Nope, they check everyone that comes in for any dark materials. Even all the mail,” Hermione responded, hoping he would leave the conversation be.

“But what if-”

“Oh drop it, Harry,” Ron sighed.

He stood up and started to the boy’s dormitories leaving Harry and Hermione sitting there in silence.

“Do you think he’s just upset he wasn’t invited to Slug’s party?” Harry asked.

“It’s not like you’re going either. Or did you forget you have detention with Snape?”

Harry sighed at this reminder and slumped back on the floor. Hermione, though unenthused about attending this party, started looking around for Ginny as she decided she might as well head down to the dungeons.


	7. Sharper Than Broken Glass

It was almost two full weeks into October now, and Hermione had tired herself out studying. Back home, most of her non-magical friends were already starting their A-levels. As a witch, she knew the system was different, and that finding post-Hogwarts education would be a lot tougher for her. Especially as she was someone with no connections who wanted to work at the ministry of all places.

Hermione was just finishing up doing two hours of notes on her History of Magic paper. Sitting in the library alone for the third day. For whatever reason, Malfoy had not returned since the last time they spoke. She reasoned that they weren’t even friends, so it didn’t matter. But despite this, she couldn’t stop herself from feeling some level of disappointment and wondering what she’d done. After packing up her things, she tied her mess of curls up in a ponytail, having not taken the time to brush it after running around all day. Hermione then headed down to meet the rest of the prefects for another patrol.

As the weeks had passed, schedules had gotten tighter. Many prefects had ended up scheduling their patrols for specific nights according to when they were available. One perk of having her work done in advance was that Hermione could help fill whatever slot was needed and take a little stress off of Allen and Raya. However, this meant her after-school schedule had been a little all-over-the-place.

She ran into Neville in the hall on her way. He was standing in front of a painting of some fruit that Hermione knew to be the secret passage to the kitchens.

“Neville?” she questioned, “Are you trying to get into the Kitchens?”

He started and turned around, revealing a tupperware full of tarts, “Oh, hi Hermione. I actually already did. Luna taught me how a while back. I decided to grab something to share with Padma while we’re on patrol.”

With that, he offered one to Hermione, who took it thankfully. She wrapped it carefully in a napkin and stored it in her own bag.

“You know Neville, I forgot to check who we’re paired with today. You didn’t happen to read who my partner was did you?”

Neville nodded solemnly, “You’re with Malfoy again,”

“Oh,” she replied simply. She wasn’t sure how to feel about this. On one hand, she was glad to have a chance to talk to him, and perhaps understand what was going on. But on the other hand, she worried that for some reason their temporary truce had ended. What if their conversation had caused him to go right back to his normal brooding self. What investigative progress she had made would be gone!

She shook herself at this thought, thinking it was more likely that Harry’s prediction about Malfoy was untrue, and it wouldn’t matter anyway. This would be just like the ones he’d had about Snape that were always disproven by the end of the year. There must be another explanation.

When they finally met up with the other prefects that night, there was already some low chatter from those standing around. It appeared that Ernie MacMillan and Anthony Goldstein were partners this time. They and Padma Patil were standing around Hannah Abbot in the corner of the room.

Hermione overheard Anthony say in earnest, “You’ll be okay, it’s only a few hours.”

“Last time she said a word to me, it was to call me a blood traitor,” came Hannah’s whispered response.

_ She could only mean Parkinson _ , thought Hermione.

In the other corner of the room were the Slytherins. Of course, there was Malfoy. Ever-distinct with that platinum blonde hair that made him stand out in any crowd. Especially in this room with its variation of dark greys and browns as the only backdrop. But today it wasn’t just him and Pansy Parkinson. Blaise Zabini was there, muttering something to Malfoy, who seemed utterly disinterested, as he slouched against the stone wall of the classroom. Parkinson was scowling slightly, arms crossed, as Zabini spoke.

Neville gave Hermione a sympathetic look and headed immediately over to where Padma was. They both waved at Hermione before heading off, each with a tart in hand.

As she got within a few feet of them, Zabini stopped his muttering, and he and Pakinson turned to the Gryffindor. Malfoy didn’t move. In fact, he was looking decidedly in the opposite direction of her. Parkinson gave Hermione a disapproving once-over, “Did you decide to wear a rat’s nest on your head today, or is that just your hair?”

Feeling a rush of anger well up in her chest, Hermione forced a smile and retorted, “Keep talking Parkinson. I’m sure one day you’ll say something intelligent.”

The girl’s face contorted in fury, “How would you like to feel the way you look?”

“Could you shut up for once Pansy?” Malfoy cut in with a sharp look of distaste at the girl.

This elicited a chuckle from Zabini, which made a now even more irritable Parkinson huff and glare at him.

“Anyway, we’ve all got things to do,” said Zabini with a pointed look at Malfoy, before leaving the room.

Malfoy motioned at Hermione to follow him. The two walked out of the now almost empty classroom, leaving poor Hannah Abbot to deal with an enraged Parkinson. Hermione almost wished she could switch partners right then and save the Hufflepuff. But strictly speaking, that wasn’t allowed. And anyhow she felt that she needed to talk to Malfoy, and so continued after him. She walked just to his left, though struggled now and again to match his pace.

“You must’ve gotten ahead on your work then. I’m still having some trouble with our last Transfiguration Assignment,” Hermione said, trying to break the tension. However, her statement was only partially true. She had only been having trouble finding time to do the work. The material itself was something she had already prepped for over the summer.

“I’m working on other things at the moment. I don’t have time to study nonsense like how to turn a slug into a broomstick.”

“Oh- that’s another thing. I noticed you’re not playing quidditch this year.”

“Well spotted Granger. And why do you know that?” He asked accusingly.

Hermione blushed and stammered, “Oh w-well my best friend is the captain of the Gryffindor team...”

With a harsh laugh, he said, “Of course. Potter.”

There was a moment of silence as they turned around another hall corner. In profile, Hermione watched Malfoy’s icy-grey eyes stare ever forward as she struggled to find more words. Luckily he began before she could think of anything.

“What?” it was somehow more of a statement than a question.

“What?”

“It seems you still have something to say.”

Hermione wondered briefly how he knew this, as he had not looked back at her once. Halfway through thinking this, she realized that she must have been staring at him the entire time. “Oh, uh, thank you. For stopping Parkinson,” she managed.

“What I said had nothing to do with you. I’m just tired of hearing her bitch constantly.”

“Right. Well, thank you anyway.”

Another moment passed silently.

“So what are your plans after Hogwarts?” she asked hopefully.

“Excuse me?”

“Just making conversation.”

No response. Hermione bit her lip in thought. Had she pushed too far? Was he catching onto her? She wasn’t being as subtle as she should be. But she thought this kind of question would be innocent enough, seeing as they are both in their last few years of school. Maybe she should backtrack-

“I don’t have to work.”

_ Of course _ … she mentally kicked herself for forgetting that he was the sole inheritor of the Malfoy fortune. Their family wouldn’t have to work for generations if they didn’t want to.

Trying to smooth over her mistake, she said, “Yes, but I thought since you’ve had family work at the Ministry, that might be of interest.”

“Maybe before last year,” he said, with a slight edge to his usual drawl.

_ Merlin, is he infuriating! It’s like having a conversation with a petty child. _

“I think I’d like to work in the Ministry myself,” she restrained herself from elaborating about her goals. Talk of improving relations between wizards and other magical races like house-elves and goblins would just add fire to any mockery she may have to endure.

Suddenly Malfoy’s pace halted and she bumped into his left arm, which he must’ve stuck out to stop her as well. He scoffed and strode into a classroom a few paces ahead of them. 

_ What is he doing? _ She thought to herself, and made to follow him. But she had taken no more than a step before she heard a vaguely familiar voice squeak, “Aw lay off will you?”

That was when Malfoy emerged again, this time with a second year in each hand, held by the scruff of their shirts. It was Amina Qureshi of Ravenclaw and Angus Matlock, a fellow Gryffindor.

“What are you two doing out of your dorms so late?” she demanded.

“We were just messing around,” said Angus, while attempting to pull his collar from Malfoy’s grip.

When Hermione pieced together what he meant, her face turned as red as a tomato.

“Please don’t say anything! It’ll never happen again, I swear,” Amina pleaded at her.

Gulping down her discomfort, Hermione glanced at Malfoy, who shrugged his shoulders with mild irritation, as if to say,  _ What do I care? _

“Fine,” she responded finally, “But you’ll both head straight back to your dorms. And if you get caught out after curfew again, you’re being turned in.”

They both nodded feverishly, and Malfoy dropped them. The two then sprinted in opposite directions, each toward their own house’s towers.

“Maybe you have a future in magical law enforcement,” she teased, “You seemed to handle those two fairly easily.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, “They’re children.”

“Yes, but still,” she said with a shrug.

“Why are you so concerned with my life Granger?”

“I’m not concerned, just interested,” she paused, wishing more than anything that she could read his emotions, “Besides, there’s not much else to talk about besides school.”

His upper lip twitched, but he said nothing, and just continued down the hall. Once again Hermione began after him.


	8. The Influence Of Proximity

They had been walking in circles for so long Hermione could feel every muscle in her legs and feet screaming at her. Every half hour or so she would stop and sit on a bench to rest. Malfoy would wait, tapping his foot with impatience.

After the fourth instance of this, he stated, “There’s really no point in continuing. We’ve made our rounds three times already,”

“We can’t just-”

“I’m going to find a nice quiet place to drink some butterbeer while I wait for our shift to end. If you want to continue wandering around all night, be my guest,” and with that, he turned down another hallway.

Hermione thought of her poor legs and warily decided to follow the Slytherin. She found Malfoy in a cramped disused room that must have been the inside of one of the smaller towers. There he was sitting on one end of a single stone bench that curved up against the length of the wall, which couldn’t have been more than two meters around.

He gave her a look of bemused surprise and said, “Don’t tell me that you, _the star pupil of our year_ , are planning on having a drink with me?”

“You know, you’ve always been a brat.” She said through a grimace but sat down anyway.

Once seated, she took out her wand and cast _Calyxis Creotium_ , and a mug appeared on her lap.

“Here,” she said, handing it to Malfoy who filled the cup to the brim.

“I suppose this means you owe me,” he said with a tired smirk.

 _Oh dear, that’s probably the last thing I want..._ she thought. But then began rummaging through her bag and pulled out the tart Neville had given her earlier. She broke it cleanly in two, with the apple filling staying perfectly in place.

“You can take half of this and we’ll call it even.”

“Why do you have a single pastry just sitting in your bag?”

“Do you want it or not?” Hermione demanded. Pursing her lips, she grumbled internally about his stubbornness.

With a look of suspicion, Malfoy reached out his hand for one of the halves. It was Hermione’s turn to be amused as she watched him inspect the sweet before taking a bite. She decided to stifle a laugh with a sip of the butterbeer. But by the time she swallowed the drink, she realized this draft was a lot stronger than the type they served at The Three Broomsticks.

“Where did you get this?” she asked, struggling to keep down a cough.

“Bought it off Robinson and Spencer in our common room. No idea where they get the stuff, but it’s leagues better than the backwash served in Hogsmead.”

“So why have you decided to stop studying in the library anyway? Are you really exchanging education for… drinking smuggled alcohol in random corners of the castle?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly at Hermione, a smirk spreading across his pale face, “Why? You didn’t miss me did you?”

Hermione sputtered in indignation, “Absolutely not! We’d made an agreement is all. I just think it was rude to- to not show up.”

“Rude yeah? I suppose I’ve always been like that though haven’t I?” he said closing his eyes and slumping lazily back onto the stone wall behind him.

Hermione felt a familiar sort of frustration, “You know, you Harry and Ron would probably get along well if you weren’t always at each other’s throats. You all test my patience regularly.”

“Ugh, don’t bring up Potter and Weaslebee while I’m trying to relax.”

Hermione said nothing but decided instead to brave a few more gulps of the butterbeer.

After a minute or two of silence and drinking, she ventured, “They can be a bit annoying, but they’re not all bad.”

“That’s you saying that, and you’re their friend. Imagine my perspective,” he said coyly.

“Well, it’s not as if you’ve been terribly nice either. You’ve called them both names and gotten into more rows than I can keep count of.”

He scoffed at this, “Please, they’ve done the same to me.”

“And it’s not just them, you’ve called me a mudblood on more than one occasion.”

At this Malfoy goes quiet, and turns his head away from her.

“I shouldn’t have done that. It was wrong.”

“I’m sorry-?”

He finally turned back to her, taking one wrist in his hand, “You can’t tell anyone I just said that though. I’m serious. Not a soul,” the look in his eyes was so desperate. Straddling the line between anger and fear. Hermione could only nod.

Hermione desperately wanted to know what had just happened in his mind. What was going on that he was afraid to utter even a simple apology? She gulped dryly and asked, “How was the tart?”

“Not bad,” He replied, taking a few swigs of the butterbeer.

Hermione bit her lip nervously, her heart rate increasing at the thought of her next sentence. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

“You could always tell me if something’s wrong. Who am I gonna tell right?” she said with a shrug, recklessly hoping that she was coming off as casual.

“I don’t think I’m quite drunk enough for that,” he said with a short laugh.

“Oh sure. I’ll wait,” Hermione said, then her eyes widened and she slapped a hand over her mouth when she realized that she’d spoken out loud.

This time Malfoy laughed full out, “Oh really? When was the last time you’d had this much to drink Granger?”

“What? Oh, I’ve- Probably never,” she responded directly, hand still hovering over her mouth.

“I’m a little jealous. If I could get drunk that fast, I’d have more money for other things.”

“Why do you decide to get drunk?”

“We’ve all got our problems, Granger,” He said

“I’m sorry,” she said and slouched forward to look at him.

“What the hell are you apologizing for?”

Her head had slowly been feeling fuzzier the longer the conversation went on, though she was trying her best to seem as though she was fully aware of what was going on. In reality, while she could hear everything, her vision kept getting blurry at random spots, which made focusing difficult. Half aware of her actions, she reached down to grab Malfoy’s hand. This was in part to show sympathy and in part to help steady herself. Malfoy looked her up and down in suspicion.

“For whatever things I should be apologizing for I guess.”

“You’re more far gone than I thought you were,” he said, pulling her hands off of his own.

She looked at him in confusion, “I’m right here.”

At that point he stood up and picked up both of their bags, slinging them over his shoulders.

Hermione glared at him, “What are you doing? That’s mine by right,”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at this comment, before helping her stand up, “Can you walk all right?”

“I don’t need to be going anywhere. Why don’t we both sit down now, and continue this conversation please,” at this, she attempted to sit down again. But she stumbled on nothing. And she would’ve hit her head on the wall if Malfoy hadn’t caught hold of her waist in time.

“That’s a no,” he said. At first, he tried to sling her arm over his shoulder but realized the height difference would mean he would have to crouch the whole way. Instead, he decided just to pick her up bridal style.

At this point, Hermione was very confused. She realized she was moving, but couldn’t feel her feet taking steps. Turning her head, she hit something that she decided must be a person. _Oh, it’s Malfoy,_ she thought. It then dawned on her that she was being carried. Briefly, it crossed her mind to be angry about it, but she decided that she liked being carried, as it was calming. And she liked his scent. He smelled of mint, rain, clean linens, and the alcohol they’d both just been drinking. Such a nice scent for a person. She buried her head in his chest to drink it in.

She could hear a faint conversation. Something that was certainly about her, but that seemed to not really be her business.

“Oh of course I will” she heard Luna Lovegood’s dreamy voice answer in response to a question. Suddenly, she was being stood up, and by necessity, her brain had to snap into what focus it could manage. She was being held up by Luna, and they were walking down a familiar hallway. She knew it would lead to Gryffindor tower. Hermione looked behind her shoulder and just managed to catch a glimpse of black leather dress shoes disappearing around a corner.

She was aware of the rest of the night, but only just. Luna arriving at the Portrait of the Painted Lady and knocking lightly. Ginny pulling her through the passage, and leading her upstairs where she pulled off her shoes and tucked her into bed. “Night Mione,” was the last thing she heard before falling under.


End file.
